


The Return of the little King

by Luca_Crimson



Series: Stigma of the Wind [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 16:46:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13194336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luca_Crimson/pseuds/Luca_Crimson
Summary: There was a request to explore a bit more of Regulus' character before he is formally introduced in chapter two of "He returned as steady as the Mountain Wind". It gives just a bit more info on Regulus and his motivations. And he gets to run a bit of commentary on how he perceives things in this brave new world he's facing.





	The Return of the little King

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wolfcub1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfcub1/gifts).



> If anyone can figure out how I came up with the title, mention it in the comments, I'll be happy to write you a one-shot of your choosing. I'll need a character/pairing/group to focus on and a sentence prompt/a song, i.e. something to draw inspiration from. The more detail you give in your wishlist, the better and faster the one-shot will get done.

 

_“King” Years & Years_

There were flames everywhere, as if the world was on fire. His lungs breathed in smoke and coughed out water. The stench of death hung thick in the air, promising death and misery. His mind was abuzz as memories flickered behind his eyes. It was as if life was flashing before his very eyes.

Memories of his brother. Perhaps the only light of his childhood. Sirius had always sought to entertain him with practical jokes, “pranks” as he called them, against all “proper pureblood behaviour” their mother indoctrinated them with. Sirius as the unruly heir apparent had it a lot worse than Regulus who was considered “unimportant” even by the branch families. At that time their great-uncle Alphard was the ruling Lord Black. But their grandfather Arcturus was the second eldest, therefore next in line. When Arcturus died, and Orion was deemed unfit to perform his duties, everyone flocked to Sirius, regaling him as the next-in-line. Walburga knew how to spin the situation to her benefit, although that didn’t necessarily mean to the benefit of her sons. When he was a child, Regulus thought that was why Alphard all but adopted the two of them, to protect them from Walburga. It was only later, when Alphard died shortly before Sirius was to enter Hogwarts, when Regulus realized the real reason: All that craziness in the Black blood led to constant infighting, conflicts Alphard had protected them from. The last two years before Hogwarts were hell on Regulus. Walburga had claimed the title of “Black Matriarch” and while that didn’t give her any pull in the Wizengamot, it did gave her power within the family. Power that made no one question what was going on behind the closed doors of Grimmauld Place no 12.

Once in Hogwarts things didn’t get better. His relationship with Sirius was strained, being in different houses. That, and there was James Potter, and Dumbledore. Regulus watched in pain how his brother slowly got sucked into the maelstrom that was the “Light Side”. It was only in fifth year when he realized the entire magnitude of it. That summer he all but begged Sirius to listen, just listen. And, to Regulus’ surprise, Sirius did listen.

Compulsions, potions, obliviates, and even an imperius. That was the true extent of what Dumbledore had been doing. Sirius, Potter and even the spell-resistant lycanthrope Lupin. All of them had been pushed into a particular direction. They had started to plan. To try and make things right. Regulus pulled in a ton of favours he had accumulated over the years. But in the end, it wasn’t Dumbledore who shattered that little flicker of hope. It was Walburga. She banned Sirius from the house, even tried to disinherit him. Alone with her in the house, Regulus became the new target of her ire.

Two months. Two months he spent with her, clinging only to the knowledge that Sirius was safe, safe, safe, safe. And he wanted out, out, out. Anywhere was better than that house. Anyone was better than her. That was his first mistake, assuming that there was no greater evil out there than Walburga Black. So he took the one step he knew that would save him from her. A step in the wrong direction. That was the second mistake, taking a mark.

The third was buying into what the Dark Lord (wrong, wrong, wrong, that’s not what the Dark is about, remember Uncle Alphard!) was selling. The fourth was not asking Sirius for help. The fifth not telling the truth when Sirius asked. By the sixth (killing an innocent muggle) Regulus realized that things had gotten out of control, that he had switched his demon for the devil himself. It took him three years.

When he finished school, he started looking for a way to rectify his mistakes. To help vanish this evil. It took another two years, and a lucky coincidence (not really lucky for anyone, but it gave him the advantage he needed). He had gone into the cave expecting to die a watery death.

So why was everything on fire? Why was smoke filling his lungs, and why did his eyes feel so heavy? He imagined to die with his eyes wide open, widened in fear. He expected to die with fire in his veins, and water all around him. Instead there was fire all around him and his head felt as if it was under water.

He felt a foreign magic brush his, feeding his depleted core. His mind breached the surface and with a gasp he took the first deep breath in what felt like years. Then Panic shot through him, where was he? Who were the people around him? What of the inferi?

A hand smooth and cool as the shadows in the Slytherin common room pressed against his forehead, dispelling the haze of terror. “Calm down, Regulus. We do not mean any harm.”

“Am I dead? Is this hell?”

“No, you are alive but barely. You have been in a magical coma for over a decade. I can heal you, however, it would reverse time for your body. You would also lose all memory of the past eight years, meaning you would return to you eleven year old self. Would you use that opportunity or would you prefer to die? You still have a few hours left. We could get your brother here, if you wish us to.”

“I know this is selfish but I don’t want to die. I have made a mistake I could have avoided. I made many mistakes following that first one. I want…no, I need a second chance. I can make this right. I need to make this right.”

“That is neither selfish nor irrational. Now, close your eyes and when you wake up, you will be at home.”

“Wait, before I forget you, would you please let me know your name?” asked Regulus, already using consciousness.

“Salazar Slytherin.”

 _Salazar Slytherin?_ How was that even possible? His last thoughts before the darkness pulled him under coursed around his mysterious saviour who might just be who he claimed. It wouldn’t surprise Regulus. With soul-splitting serial killers on the loose, what was one resurrected legendary wizard?

 

When he came to the next time it wasn’t to ash and brimstone, but to white cleanliness and golden sunlight. _St. Mungo’s,_ his mind supplied. He was safe. And alive. And just as he thought that, he wondered why it would be different. Had Walburga punished him too hard this time? Or had Bellatrix snuck up on him again? Maybe it was Uncle Cygnus this time.

He blinked. There was a man in the chair next to his bed. He looked like a handsomer version of Orion (not father, never father). He looked like Regulus had always imagined a younger Uncle Alphard. He looked in his mid-twenties, but Regulus knew that looks can be deceiving, especially when it came to the age of a magical person.

Mercurial eyes blinked open. They saw him and softened, with fondness and an unspeakable sadness. The silver eyes – a Black family trait – where so much warmer than he was used to. Only one other person had eyes as warm as that…

“Sirius?” he whispered, almost afraid to be wrong.

A tired smile was his answer: “Hey little brother. You missed a lot. Almost as much as I have missed you.”

Regulus’ nose wrinkled unvoluntarily (“It’s not acceptable pureblood behaviour to scrunch up your face like that!”). “That doesn’t even make sense. At least from a grammatical perspective,” even to his own ears the words sounded petty (which, by the way, was acceptable pureblood behaviour).

“And yet you got my meaning anyways,” Sirius teased, his eyes turning just a shade sadder.

“What’s wrong? You said I missed things…” Regulus muttered, gesturing around the room and at Sirius’ older face.

“Not just things, little brother…years. With your de-aging and your coma, you’re missing roughly nineteen years.”

Nineteen years? De-aging? Coma? NINETEEN BLOODY YEARS?

Sirius seemed to read his expression (not having one’s mask on in public wasn’t acceptable pureblood behaviour) as easily as he had what had apparently been 19 years ago: “You remember getting to Hogwarts?”

Regulus shook his head (not good pureblood behaviour, but tolerable when taking the situation into consideration).

“Well, you were sorted into Slytherin. And that put a strain on our relationship, as if my friendship with Dumbledore’s Golden Boy James Potter wasn’t already complicating things enough. So as the years went by we got estranged from one another. You know, as one does when you don’t talk to one another. In hindsight I am mostly to blame for that,” Sirius trailed off, lost in memories that weren’t fully Regulus’. In a way, not quite, who knew (not talking in fully formed sentences when not insinuating anything was not acceptable pureblood behaviour).

Sirius pulled himself together (gazing off into the distance wasn’t acceptable pureblood behaviour): “Well, we – that is you – found out that Dumbledore was manipulating us, which means my group of friends and me. Compulsions, potions, you name it. Anyways before we could go forth and expose the bastard Walburga,” even just mentioning her name made both brothers shudder, “expulsed me from the family home, so I took cover at the Potters’. And then Dumbledore got to us again, but this time the compulsions didn’t take. In the meantime you were stuck with Walburga and that led you straight into Voldemort’s arms,” Sirius’ face was now full of barely concealed pain.

“I took the mark,” Regulus guessed, remembering Orion mentioning something of the sort about the Malfoy heir (or was he the Lord now?).

Sirius’ nod was terse, but he forced himself to continue: “At one point you…started believing…what they preached,” he paused at Regulus’ hiss, he continued a bit louder, as if placating Regulus, “But you realized that they were talking hogwash soon enough. So…you turned against the Dark Lord. And you found his weakness,” Sirius paused again, clearly unsure how to continue.

“Remember how Alphard talked about fiendish magic and how everyone should just keep their fingers out of that apple pie from hell?”

Of course Regulus remembered. There had been talks of splitting souls, and even worse things. “Did he do that? Did he create a…what’s it called…Horcrux?”

“Got it in one…well, you found one of them. And stole it. We’re currently looking for it in Grimmauld.”

“You said one…did he create more than one?” Regulus whispered, as if speaking louder would make it true.

“Yeah, we’re guessing seven because…well that actually leads me to the eleven years you’ve missed from your coma,” Sirius looked at his hands, trying to find a way to start. They both ignored what had been implicated: That Regulus hadn’t made it out of that cave. That he probably had expected to die in there. And while Regulus had a lot of things to yell at his older self if he ever got the chance, there was a grudging respect stemming from the fact that he had apparently been willing to lay down his life for the chance to get rid of Voldemort.

“So, shortly after you went missing, a prophecy reached the two warring parties. A “chosen one” was nearing. And he would defeat the Dark Lord. He would be born to parents who had thrice defied the Dark Lord and he would be born “as the seventh month dies”. So at the end of July.”

“Judging from Volemort’s brilliant track record when it comes to life decisions, he probably bought into the prophecy and went after an infant,” Regulus concluded drily (which isn’t acceptable pureblood behaviour, just in case anyone was wondering).

“Yup, the problem is that he didn’t get the last part of the prophecy which goes a bit like this: “And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal for he will have the power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.”

“So Voldemort had hand in creating his own nemesis,” Regulus facepalmed (not acceptable pureblood behaviour, but who cares anyways? Walburga must either be dead or have had a personality transplant for Sirius to be allowed back into Grimmauld place, judging from the Lord Ring on his brother’s hand it was the former. So really, no one gave a damn, so screw acceptable pureblood behaviour).

“So then what happened?”

“Dumbledore happened. There were three potential children of the prophecy. Neville Longbottom, whose parents were tortured into insanity by the Lestrange brothers, Crouch jr, and dear old cousin Bella,” Regulus winced. He would have loved to say that he was surprised to hear Bellatrix mentioned in such a context, but…well it wasn’t all that far-fetched.

“And then there were the Potter twins,” Regulus perked up, Sirius had mentioned James Potter being his best friend in school, “they hid under the Fidelius. We decided to be sneaky and chose Peter Pettigrew as the Secret Keeper instead of me or Remus. Pettigrew promptly sold them out to Voldemort. Following that the Dark Lord broke down their front door, stunned James and Lily – for reasons we still don’t know – and then turned his wand on Daniel Potter. Daniel survived, by some miracle. And his twin got a soul shard from Voldemort imbedded into his forehead. Dumbledore cursed James and Lily to become shadows of their former selves. Who knows, he may have done that since long before that night. Anyways, they were his meat puppets. His to manipulate and play with. Daniel is no different. But that’s probably his real self. He’s been spoiled rotten and his fame from being “the boy who lived” and the “conqueror of the Dark Lord” doesn’t help either,” Sirius’ face was twisted in anger.

“What about the other twin?” Regulus asked.

Sirius’ face melted into an expression of pure affection. Regulus felt jealous for a moment, until he heard: “Harry’s my godson. Me and Remus were also Daniel’s godparents but got switched for “more suitable options” when we criticized them for how they treated Harry. You see, Dumbledore convinced the Potters to give up their younger son, putting him in a muggle household, because he shouldn’t grow up surrounded by his brother’s fame.”

Well, that sounded like the biggest load of hippogriff excrements in the history of wizarding kind, in Regulus’ humble opinion.

“They,” Sirius’ face became almost sinister, “They didn’t treat him well. They would treat him as lesser wizards treat their house elves,” ignoring Regulus’ indignant gasp, he shouldered on, “what they, what no one knew, was that Harry is the heir to two certain houses whose _founders_ were very displeased when they found their heir in the wreckage of the muggle home.”

Regulus’ mind whirred. It was the most well-kept secret in the magical world, only four people would know it, the Gaunt Lord, as the descendant of Slytherin, the Black Lord, as their equal so-called “brother family” (although that bond had been broken when the Gaunts had fallen from grace), the Potter Lord as the descendant of Gryffindor, and the Longbottom Lord as their “brother family”. The Potters had long-forgotten their powers, the Gaunts had lost theirs, and one of the Longbottom Lords had taken it to the grave, never telling his heir. So Lord Alphard Black had made an exception and told both his grand-nephews of the secret prophecy, of “Fate’s Loophole”.

“So…,” Regulus was nervous, not sure if saying it out loud would betray the secret to the world: “It the…Loophole…was it…used?”

He wasn’t alone in his paranoia, even Sirius looked nervous when he nodded once, before leaning back and looking around in near-panic.

“The two…you-know-whos, they were the ones who found you.”

“Ahh…” Regulus answered.

Conversation dribbled out afterwards. Both of them were awkward around each other. Sure, it wasn’t anything time couldn’t fix but right now they were both shocked by the sudden changes in their lives. At one point Regulus mentioned that Regulus could come home with him if he wanted but that he was free to stay wherever he wanted.

“Is there something wrong with me staying in the family home?” asked Regulus, picking up on the insecurity in Sirius’ voice.

“No!” Sirius yelled, before composing himself, “I just didn’t want to pressure you. That…and…well. I’m in a relationship at the moment. I would call her my wife but with the anti-Dark propaganda of the last years, they forbade bonding, or even marriage for creatures considered dark.”

“Do I know her?”

“You’ve heard of her…”

“Sirius…”

“Well, she…might…be…” the elder of the two ended his sentence in a mutter.

“Oh my god…it’s Angiola Zabini, isn’t it?” Regulus felt his eyes starting to shine. That was gold. Angiola Zabini was an incubus. An incubus who was around a thousand years old and the reputation of a Black Widow. That, and she had a son…well sort of. Incubi had the weird ability to influence their pregnancy being able to store a fertilized egg outside their bodies. And Angiola Zabini had created a tsunami of scandalous gossip by wearing hers around a chain on her neck. Sirius had been fascinated even as a thirteen year old. Regulus had teased him mercilessly for it.

“Will you look at that, my older brother married his childhood crush…” Regulus mock-mused, “Does she know?”

“Of course she does, do you think I can lie to her?”

“Right, you get ridiculously honest when you’re smitten.”

“Oh shut it.”

 

Angiola turned out to be the best thing since heating spells in winter. She was more than welcoming and helped Regulus get adapted into the new time. That, and she remained patient when he couldn’t decide on a fabric and cut for his festive robes.

Yes, you read that right, festive robes. Do you think that just because you’re new to a time you can skip the Yule Ball season?

 

Well, if he were honest, Regulus would have loved to skip the ball season. For several reasons. The Potters, gossiping pureblood ladies, the Potters, no one his age to talk to, the Potters, gossip about him, the Potters, getting pinched in the cheeks, and the Potters, just to name some of them.

Right now he was hiding from Daniel Potter and his red-headed side kick. Specifically, he was hiding from them underneath the dinner buffet (not acceptable pureblood behaviour, but why give a damn when you can just bribe people to keep their mouths shut? They had the money, and it would be fun the shock all those high society people).

Crawling on his hands and knees he made his way towards the windows. The curtains were a much more comfortable hiding space. That, and if things got worse you could always take a step outside and plunge into the sweet oblivion of death.

Or not. Because when Regulus finally reached the curtains he found them occupied.

“Did you drink too much wine, love?”

“No, that’s just you, my dear.”

“Oh? Then why don’t you just take what you want my darling snake?”

“I could ask you the same, my sweet lion?”

“No, no, lovely heart, I don’t take without unquestionable consent. And you, light of my life, are obviously intoxicated. Otherwise you wouldn’t have broken out the pet names.”

There was a sound of complaint before the soft pop of apparition announced their exit from the ballroom.

Shocked into verbal and mental silence, Regulus made his way back to his brother, and stand-in father (it was easier to declare them father and son than to explain the whys and hows of Regulus’ new-found youth).

“The founders…” Regulus started, “Are they…What are they?”

“Blimey if I know. They have this weird sexual tension thing going on…but everything else is a mystery.”

“Should you throw around words like “sexual tension”? I mean…I am an innocent child and all…”

“Oh, please, you haven’t been innocent in that regard ever since we were seven and nine, accidentally overhearing Uncle Cygnus and a Lady of the Night getting it on in the downstairs supply closet.”

Regulus groaned: “I did _not_ need to be reminded of that.”

 

The next ball was, as astounding as it may sound, worse.

Daniel and his side ki- Weasley. Daniel and Weasley had caught up with him and where spouting drivel about the Light Side, and how great a man Dumbledore was and what not. It was probably the exact same speech they had heard from their parents and had unquestioningly swallowed it up, not bothering to fact check.

Regulus found himself unable to believe that this…this child was supposed to be the “Saviour”™ everyone was hoping for. The boy was so short-sighted. And light. So light. If Regulus knew one thing, it was that you had to have at least a bit of Darkness inside yourself to be able to fight monsters. Someone purely light, walking around with rose-tinted glasses, wouldn’t understand how a monster fought and could therefore not defeat it, as he couldn’t anticipate a monster’s actions.

So no, Regulus couldn’t imagine how the “Light Side” could win this war, when it was filled to the brim with naivety and lies, or a combination of both. Regulus had seen how many restrictions were placed on anything even remotely considered “Dark”, how the “Light Side” had blurred the lines between “Dark” and “Fiendish”.

On the other hand, a life under the “Dark Rule” wouldn’t be a life worth living either. He had read enough about Voldemort’s ideals and methods to know that he would never make that same mistake of joining that madman again.

He wouldn’t make the same mistakes again, period.

But where could he fit in? Where was the side worth fighting for?

 

He found his answer six months later when he looked into eyes as blue as the azure sky.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love.  
> They motivate like no other thing.  
> You are wonderful people.  
> I can't poetry.  
> Please comment


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